Biology, Chemistry, and Other Exercises
by Cimbeline
Summary: In light of most of these fictions being under 1000 words, I've decided to compile a collection instead of spamming up my author page. Some old favorites, no new ones. EdXBella obviously . Warnings: Some minor angst.
1. Biology and Chemistry

We arrived in the musty classroom. To my dismay, everyone was already mentally buzzing about how "that 'perfect' Cullen kid" was taking a sudden and seemingly unwarranted interest in Bella Swan..

_She's so lucky…'s_ echoed in about half the female population; others, like Mike Newton, were more jealous of me.

_God damn it, Cullen… hands off!_

I let a faint growl rumble from my chest.

I turned my attention, instead, to Bella. How did she feel about our new situation? I gazed intently at the side of her head, trying for the umpteenth time to hear her thoughts. Futile. She continued aimlessly doodling on the cover of her notebook.

I wondered if she knew how wrapped up in every aspect of her I was; I suspected not. Love, bloodlust, jealousy, and, of course, just plain lust battled endlessly to gain ground in my heart.

She flipped her hair to one side of her face, letting loose a wave of delicious feminine scent in my direction. Her porcelain neck held my acute attention, for more than the usual reasons.

My eyes slid reluctantly from her form as Mr. Banner dragged a cumbersome AV stand through the door.

Movie day.

You could almost feel the waves of relief tumbling over the class.

And then the lights went off.

My arm was so close to Bella's. I could feel the vibrations of her heart beating. The warmth of her skin, so tempting.

I was suddenly overcome with a burning desire to touch her, to have her soothing heat against my unnatural coolness; it was as if an electric current was rushing like a raging river between our bodies.

I wondered: did she feel this too?

With a slight glance in my peripheral vision, I saw her back stiffen and arch. She crossed her arms in front of her, effectively putting us both in the same position.

She knew. It was the same for her.

I slipped my eyes from her form to her face. She looked to me, a familiar look in her eyes.

Desire.

My heart, were it not a lump of cold flesh, would have stopped then and there.

The need to touch her grew with each passing second, threatening to consume me. This was becoming embarrassing; I was acting like a teenager.

I grinned sheepishly at her, sure she could feel the waves of lust emanating from me.

The pulses originating from somewhere in her body increased in intensity and frequency until I could control myself no longer.

I tentatively slid my cool palm into hers, now lying open between us.

Surprising me, she gripped my hand tightly. I could hear her heartbeat hammering through her body. Leaning into my shoulder, her sinful warmth creating waves of desire in me that distracted and surprised me as much as Bella's willingness to touch me did.

Lust, I thought incredulously. Not a single hint of the bloodlust that had plagued me remained at this moment.

Enough thinking. I gave myself over to the pleasure of having her lean against me, closing my eyes to immerse myself in the deep feeling.

However, no matter how hard I tried, Newton's angry jealousy filtered through to me. I would use it to my advantage.

I brought my lips close, dangerously close, to her perfect ear. "Newton's jealous," I whispered to her in my most silken voice.

In response, she leaned her head against my neck, rubbing my arm with the hand I wasn't holding.

I shivered involuntarily.

"Let him be," she whispered, inhaling deeply.

I closed my eyes to get lost in the heat, only to nearly growl at Mr. Banner for flicking the lights.

Bella stiffened immediately, leaving me in withdrawal of her heat. All traces of her previous boldness disappeared.

"Well, that was interesting." I murmured to her as she stretched.

A gorgeous blush creeped slowly onto her cheeks.


	2. Indecision

Spanish. One of the few times when a female teacher openly ignored me. Bliss, by the usual standards; hell after Bella.

Bella. I let my mind taste her name in its depths, hardly bothering to decipher the feelings her name fished up. I picked out a rather sour one, one that left a bitterness on my tongue, to mull over, killing the time. Self-hate.

I hated myself. The monster I am, the monster she made me, the monster that even dared to love one of God's most innocent creatures. I winced at 'love'; I can't even admit such things to myself.

Bella. How I wanted to kill her, to suck her dry of her crimson liquid, her life giving river. I scoffed internally at myself; enough euphemisms. I wanted her blood. Sweet, warm, still pumping from her weakening heart, eyes pleading, wide with fear and horror. Fresh venom flowed thickly from the back of my mouth, goading the imaginings. Thick, clotting blood running down my parched throat, mixed with pockets of sweet, freesia air. Lovely.

My now onyx eyes filled with the familiar horror and self-hate, though the thirst still lay dominant over my throat.

Lovely. Like the blush creeping over her visage. I closed my eyes to better see her face. High, sweeping cheekbones accentuated deep-set, loving eyes. Full lips graced her chin with a forgiving smile. An unfamiliar heat soaked through me as I continued.

Waved black-brown hair tumbles down to her shoulders, defined collarbone visible above the neckline of her deep blue dress. A smile found its way onto my face. Beautiful.

The vision went on to include me, ordinary compared to her in a black old-style tuxedo, winding my arms around her waist and into her waiting fingers as we prepared to waltz. Her heart hammered at my touch and my smile grew. The musicians plucked out the first few notes of their song and-

_Edward Cullen_. I almost growled. This vision had been pleasing me intensely until one of the teenagers in my Spanish class had decided to interrupt me with some sort of disgusting scene. The tenor of this particular mind was quite easy to place; Jessica Stanley, a junior such as myself. Poor girl. I pitied her though I almost grew to hate her during my freshman and sophomore years at Forks High School. Lusty girl. Gross imaginings of the same situation that would never occur bothered me until I was sure it was time for her to die. She went on internally.

_He walked over to me, pinning me to the wall as his lips brushed mine and… _I scowled in distaste and concentrated on another rambling.

_…should ask Bella…would she say yes? I bet she was planning on asking CULLEN, her 'savior'. Ugh. I hate his guts. What a horrible guy…whatever. She'll say yes… _Mike Newton, a blandly popular baby-faced blonde boy. Hmm. I did not like the idea of him going to the dance with Bella…

A new scene wound its way to me; Bella in a skintight black silk costume, too short for even modern courtesy. Mike Newton swaying close up against her as she lay her head on his shoulder in silent bliss, his arms pinning her to every line of his body…

A low snarl escaped from my chest as Mike continued on. I gathered my belongings as Señora Falicientades dismissed us…"Adios, clase!". The bell rang and I dropped off my books, heading to the lunchroom as I decided what to do with Bella. My Bella.


	3. Incomprehensible

He gasps, running hard, unnecessary lungs pumping double-time. He tries to close off his body from the scent; it's all right, though, it's weakening quickly.

His legs pump farther. He must hurry.

Jumping from roof to roof of the collapsing homes below, his arms strain against the dead weight he has burdened himself with. I must hurry, he reflects, panicking.

At last, home. More like a hovel than anything.

The boy is set down on a dirty, ragged matress, slumping lazily off one end into a nest of rats. They scurry away from the scent of death.

The man wrings his hands, unsure of himself. I can do this, he thinks. I must do this. He leans closer, pausing his breath, going in for the kill, for his future, for a companion. He bites.

He bites. He bites the neck, the wrists, the ankles, then straight into the chest, four times. He dry heaves at the taste which he has forbidden himself to indulge in for so long.

Nothing.

The boy has no reaction, no quickening of breath, no immediate revival. The lonely man sobs, thinking of his failure. Finding his way to the beaten doorframe, he looks through the sheets of rain, searching for a reason. Anything.

A scream. The man looks at the boy, relieved at the pain he is only beginning to feel.

A trickle of feeling swims toward the boy's mind through the deep fog imposed on him; shuddering, he has a moment of recognition. Pain.

His limbs are dying, though the strange fire has worked its way to them.

He shocks internally at a scream. He doesn't have time to recognize it as his own.

A strange liquid burns its way to the heart, its only mission to heal, heal the disease of humans. Time. Venom burns away the useless veins in the extremities, the limbs, the torso, the heart.

This is only the first stage, the destruction.

The body convulses, emitting screams and moans that tear the vocal chords. It is of no matter. Soon he will no longer be able to scream.

Bones shatter as the earsplitting inhuman sounds fade into the water-thick air.

* * *

The boy stares out of the window, absentmindedly stroking the hair of the girl beside him. A shaft of shimmering moonlight filters down on them; he shimmers as if he were made of moonlight as well. She is merely visible in the light's path. He sighs as the girl continues breathing steadily beside him.

She wants to go through what the man has put him through. His will against it is crumbling.

He is selfish, like so many. He wants her by his side for eternity. He cannot imagine leaving her to waste away, flesh consumed by the earth after she has been buried.

But he remembers it...

He remembers the pain. Sheer and utter surrender into one of the most achingly interminable processes. No relief; the nerves remain intact, becoming more receptive as the screams ravage on. Blackouts are impossible; that human reflex to pain has already been stolen forever.

A low mumble attracts his attentive ear; he has missed it. No matter. She will repeat what she whispered soon.

"Edward.." she said. The boy looks at her and replies softly, "Yes,"

"Forever."

The night continues as the boy makes his final decision.


End file.
